A fridge poem.
in Perivale Woods.
Are the answers here?
Tangled in the roots,
Stretching to the skies.
Freedom smells like this
Damp cold leaves being warmed by the silent, omnispective sun
Did you enjoy being worshiped by our ancestors?
Witness to the start
Reminding us of our fragility
This community of ancient Oaks
Harboring colonies and ancient civilizations.
Small wonders, perfect, total and complete
Sometimes not looking for answers
Is the answer.
Clichés dance on top of jumbled thoughts.
I feed my heart the fragrant soup of small wonders.